


Hot For Teacher

by Trin303



Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Forbidden Relationships, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trin303/pseuds/Trin303
Summary: Kinktober 2020Prompt: Forbidden RelationshipHelen is an elementary school teacher by day, GED teacher by night. And her new student, John Wick, continues to put her on edge.
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick
Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962415
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Hot For Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: kiska is Russian for kitten

Helen had always wanted to be a teacher. Since before she started primary school, she would line up her stuffed animals and dolls and would tell them every single thing that she knew. Every day, she could teach them a little bit more and it excited her.

She tutored elementary kids in middle school, and middle schoolers during high school. She tutored high schoolers in college. Teaching had been her dream. Her life’s goal.

And she was good at it. 

She went to college, to graduate school. And once she flew through the program with amazing grades and a fantastic internship, she had her pick of jobs. And more debt than she knew what to do with. 

She taught elementary students during the day and, to help pay off her loans, she began to teach GED classes at night.

It wasn’t as much fun as playing with kids and teaching them basic math. And sometimes it was nearly impossible to teach classes when everyone was at a different level and half her students didn’t fully understand English.

But there was also something incredible about teaching grown men and women, who for whatever reason, had been robbed of their education. There was something beautiful about watching them accomplish something.

And so she stuck with it.

She stuck with late-night teaching four nights a week. She stuck with teaching students she struggled to communicate with without the help of translation books and apps. She stuck with teaching classes of grown men who were oddly proud to be  _ hot for teacher _ .

The start of the school term was always a bit overwhelming. At the start of the year, there were three times the number of students that would be there at graduation and her room was packed. 

She began with a smile, introducing herself to the class, insisting they call her Helen, and calling for attendance.

It was the usual hodgepodge of classes. Men and women of all ages, multiple ethnicities. Some were eagerly leaning forward and ready to learn. Others seemed disinterested and a few had their phones in hand as she talked.

But the one who caught her attention sat in the back corner. He was one of the first to make his way to the classroom. Quiet and studious, he came prepared for every class and often reading for his own pleasure.

Every student has a story. Some had dropped out of high school to help aging parents or take care of siblings or babies. Some had to pay the bills or were homeless. Some had immigrated late in life. Others had flunked out the first time around.

She wondered about him. Obviously bright, from their first interaction.

He was sitting next to an elderly Vietnamese man who was struggling to find work without a diploma. He struggled with English pronunciation and reception although he could read it just fine.

Helen had been trying to communicate with him and had been ready to write down the instructions for him when John had coughed.

In a perfect string of Vietnamese, John had spoken to Anh, who nodded along excitedly before nodding to Helen, "yes, teacher." He said and Helen smiled, looking to John in surprise.

"You speak Vietnamese?"

He shrugs, "Rudimentary. Enough to get by."

Clearly more than that, since he was able to communicate instructions. She said as much and John shrugged.

"I have an ear for languages."

"What others do you know?" She asks with interest and his face flushes just a bit.

"I can get by in most Slavic dialects, and Spanish, Italian, and Mandarin. And English, of course."

He was brilliant, she soon discovered.

Utterly so.

He knew languages and literature. He knows about art and culture. He simultaneously fascinates her and makes her feel utterly small at the same time.

He’s well-traveled and while she can describe the works of Bernini from pictures, he has seen them up close. Idly, he mentions traveling to Rome for  _ business _ .

She’s not quite sure what business a Slavic man has in Rome, nor what kind of job he has managed to snag without a diploma, but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she asks him about the sistine chapel and the colosseum and other things she’ll probably never get to see in the downtime before class starts, as well as in it’s end, as he stays to help her clean up.

A week into class, she has everyone split into pairs work on their critical reasoning skills through language arts. A young, pretty little brunette from Estonia asks John to be her partner. He accepts and she feels a surge of jealousy that she tamps down on quickly. He’s her student, she reminds herself. And there are ethics and boundaries and her feelings do not matter.

She forces herself to walk around the classroom, offering assistance.

And then she hears it. Maria says something to John in Estonian and he replies in kind. The words spill from his lips and she has no idea what he’s saying but  _ Christ _ , he sounds so good saying it.

It sends a shiver down her spine and Helen knows that she has to be careful.

She’s never been tempted by a student before.

Occasionally, the boys in her class flirted with her. A few times, she was propositioned. It had never crossed her mind to do anything with it. 

Another one of her students, Rafe, has no problem flirting with her whenever he enters her class. He’s young and tall and handsome, but she feels nothing. Not even a flicker of attraction. Which, she reminds herself, is good. 

What isn’t good is the way her heart races when John walks into the room or the way her body aches when he starts to speak in another language.

_ Boundaries _ , she reminds herself.

Boundaries.

It’s easier when others are around. When they’re in a room filled with students, she can busy herself with others. She can remind herself that he is a student, sitting on the opposite side of the classroom.

Its when they all leave, save John. When the class is empty and she is left alone with him, cleaning up and organizing papers, she starts to struggle. She’s reaching to tuck a stack of books away in the corner above the closet when a few of the books start to tip, like they’ll fall. She reaches with her second hand to try to protect her head from the falling books when she feels a hard body pressing into her back. 

An arm reaches up around her and tucks the books onto the shelf. 

She has the urge to sigh with relief but her breath becomes stuck in her chest as she remembers who she is with.

John.

That’s his body pressed into hers. His warmth she feels.

And, Jesus fuck, that can’t possibly be his dick pressed against her ass. 

All at once, she can’t move. She can’t breathe.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t move.

Her heart is racing and Helen slips out from under his arms. “You know,” she says, backing up, “You really don’t have to help. Not that I don’t appreciate it. I really do, but it’s part of my job.”

He is watching her, a small smile on his face that throws her completely off guard.

John steps forward and Helen finds herself continuing to move backward until, fuck, she hits the blackboard.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Of course not.” The words fall too quickly from her lips and John’s smile widens. His hands come up on either side of her.

"You're shaking."

Oh. Was she?

Maybe.

But how could she help it when John was crowding her. She could smell him, the musky scent of his aftershave. 

God, he smells so good. 

He looks so good. He sounds so good. John Wick was a walking wet dream and he was her student. Her student. And this wasn't appropriate and as the authority figure, it was her responsibility to maintain the boundaries.

It was a ridiculous thought, she acknowledges. That she is the authority figure while John has her boxed in against a wall.

"Helen," he says softly, tilting her head up, "I can feel you thinking and it’s time to stop.”

“Stop thinking?”

And holy fuck, his fingers are tracing her jaw, running along her hair and carefully removing it from its hold. Dark hair spills down around her shoulders and John runs his hand down the length.

“Yeah.”

Yeah? What was he saying yes to? She couldn’t even remember what they had been speaking about seconds before because John was leaning down and his lips were on hers.

Fuck.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft but he is far from gentle. Desperation lines his kiss as he tilts her head back and shoves his tongue into her mouth. Whatever noise of protest she tried to make is swallowed by John.

His knee nudges its way between her legs, pushing them apart. His thigh makes her skirt ride up as his hands travel down her body, stopping at her hips. His fingers dig into her and she can’t help the little cry that escapes her at his punishing grip. They bite into her before moving again, traveling south towards the hem of her skirt.

Helen tries to turn her head, to break the kiss but John just leans into her, warning her with a small nip to her lips as he drags the skirt up her legs, teasingly slow.

This isn’t right, she thinks. Yes, they’re both adults but she’s still his teacher. She manages to get her hands between them, to push John off her but he doesn’t budge. He’s like a fucking rock and Helen tries to ignore how his body feels against her palms.

He’s hard and solid and her hands are feeling the muscles she’s only imagined but it still isn’t right. Ethical duties and obligations distract her, make her heart race both with excitement and anxiety as John sucks at her tongue.

And then she feels his teeth, biting down on her muscle and Helen lets out a startled shriek as John pulls back.

“Stop thinking.” He tells her again but this time, there’s an edge to it. This wasn’t a tease or a taunt anymore. It was an order and she feels it viscerally, traveling down her body and resting in her core, warming her all the way even as her hairs stand on end.

God, she wants to stop thinking. She wants to say to hell with it all and let him fuck her right there, against the blackboard, consequences be damned. But this is her job. And she has ethical duties. Moral obligations. 

Helen shakes her head as John’s hands slip under her skirt, dragging along her thighs and stopping at the edge of her panty hose. “You’re my student. This is wrong, we c--”

“What’s wrong,” John interrupts and he snaps the garter that holds her hose up, “Is you walking around this classroom in these tight skirts. It’s fucking sinful. Do you know what you do to me every time you bend over to help somebody?”

John grabs her hand from where it rests on his chest and yanks it to the bulge in his pants.

The breath leaves her chest as he flattens her palm over his clothed length.

“You feel what you do to me?”

Helen can’t pretend she hasn’t imagined touching him.  _ Really _ touching him and feeling him. Peeling that fucking suit off him to see the body he hides beneath. To grasp at his long hair as she bounces on his cock.

Everything starts to shake and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s her, trembling against him. And John is moving his hips, gently, grinding against her palm.

She wants to reach inside his pants, to really feel him in her hand, not just through the stupid cloth.

_ Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries _ . 

“Look at you,” he thrusts against her hand, “trying so hard to be good when you’ve spent all night walking around, looking like  _ that _ .”

Helen bites her lip. Her outfit isn’t revealing. She’s wearing a pink blouse that buttons down the middle and it’s tucked into her grey skirt. They’re form-fitting but not so tight as to be revealing, in any way.

“Everytime you bend over me, I keep hoping those tits will spill out. But maybe they just need a little help.” His releases her hand from his dick and reaches up to the top button of her blouse. He slips it easily, trailing his hand down her blouse, snapping each open with ease.

He exhales a growl at the sight of her white, lacy bra and Helen feels her panties start to soak as John takes her in.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He mutters, shaking his head. He grasps the sides of her shirt and pushes back and tears it down her arms, letting it fall to the floor.

Helen, at once, realizes two things. First, that she is completely exposed. Second, that her hand is still resting on his dick.

She quickly moves it away, a flush tainting her cheeks as she tries to cover herself from his sight.

John uses her covering her tits to his advantage, quickly unzipping her skirt and pushing it over her hips.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he shakes his head in awe at the matching panties and garter set. “Dressing like that, practically waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“No!” She is quick to protest, moving her hands so as best to cover herself.

“Then who’re you dressing for, huh?” And now his tone is taunting, “We both know you’re single, don’t we,  _ kiska _ ?”

She shivers at the bit of Russian thrown in at the end but she shakes her head, “I’m not.” She lies, quickly looking for another way out because he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about the ethical boundaries of her being his teacher. And guys have that code, don’t they? “I’m not single. I… have a boyfriend.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes flashing dangerously as he clicks his tongue, “Don’t lie to me, Helen. Bad girls get punished.” He catches her chin between two fingers and forces her to look up at him. “ _ Who  _ were you dressing for?”

Helen wants to deny it, again, feeling that flush rush to her cheeks. Truthfully, she hadn’t put on the lingerie with John directly in mind but she couldn’t deny that she had thought about this. About John cupping her breasts and her sex through lace. But they were thoughts. Idle and personal and meant only for her imagination.

She tries to avoid the question, “We can’t do thi--”

He pushes her chin further up, pressing her back into the blackboard. It was cold before but it feels like ice against her bare back.

“You’re a good teacher,  _ kiska _ , but I think it’s time somebody taught you some fucking manners.” He leans down, his beard brushing delightfully against her soft cheek as he whispers, “When I ask you a question, you answer it. Understand?”

Gone is the taunt. This is an order and, fuck her sideways, but she feels compelled to follow it. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

She licks her lips, “Yes, sir.”

John rewards her with a smile as he pulls back. “Good girl. I suppose you can be a good student, can’t you,  _ kiska? _ Now,  _ who  _ did you wear this for?” His finger toys with the strap of her bra. “Hmmm?”

Helen swallows heavily, “You, sir.”

He rubs her shoulder, “Good girl. You’ve learned your first lesson.”

_ First? _ Of course, she realizes, John is far from done.

His hands trail down her body, ghosting her breasts and sliding down her torso roughly. A hand slips into her panties and Helen turns her head to the side, embarrassed as the state of her panties.

A grin breaks over John’s face as he teases her slit and finds it soaking. “You’re fucking dripping.” He tells her, easily slipping a finger inside her. She bites her lip to suppress a moan, “And you were really trying to resist it, weren’t you?”

She nods, helplessly, as John slides a second finger into her soaking pussy.

He groans in delight, “Second lesson,  _ kiska _ , rules are made to be broken.”

“This is wrong. You’re my student…” His fingers curl inside her and her head shoots back, leaning against the chalkboard as she resists the urge to moan.

“We only got so many years on this Earth,” John murmurs, rubbing his thumb against her clit as his fingers rub circles inside her, “and you think we should deny ourselves pleasures because of a silly thing like ethics?  _ Kiska,  _ I’m going to tear down every ethic you have.”

John’s fingers slip out of her and Helen finds herself moaning at the loss. Before she can think too much on that, however, John’s hands find her hips and she is hoisted into the air and carried over the handful of feet to the desk. Her desk. Where she teaches from and grades from and sits as her students work. It’s clear, now, save for two small piles of paper.

John ignores them, laying Helen on top of the desk. On top of papers she needs to grade and she can’t bring herself to care anymore. 

He climbs on top of her, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. Helen licks her lips, staring at the space between them as John pulls out his hard, thick cock. He pushes her panties to the side and rubs the head of his length against her wet folds. She can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the sight.

“Ready for lesson three, kiska?” He taunts. Helen opens her mouth with a protest, a last hail Mary, but before she can respond, John shoves inside her.  _ “You belong to me _ .”

A shout escapes her as John coats himself in her juices, pulling out just a bit before slamming back in aggressively. His hips collide with hers and Helen whimpers at the glorious intrusion.

Her body struggles to adjust to make room for him as he quickly begins to thrust in and out of her.

“You’re mine.” He tells her, tugging her body against his, “my little  _ kiska. _ ”

Gone is the sweet, kind man who helps her put away books and clean the classroom. In his place, he has left someone dark and possessive. His words scream in her head  _ you belong to me _ and that terrifies her and excites her all the same.

Hadn’t she wished for this? For the rules to just disappear so that she could have this man to herself?

The rules seemed so ridiculous now, as he fucks her into oblivion, letting the thoughts slide from her head until all she can think is  _ yes _ and  _ more _ .

John grinds himself down against her and she cries out in pleasure, arching herself forward and burying her head in shoulder as he brings her closer and closer to her own delightful ending. John teases her, adjusting his pace, before slamming back into her. 

His arms go around her, holding her in place so he can better use her.

Helen moans and whimpers and delights him with every little sound that escapes her pretty mouth.

“Look at you,  _ kiska, _ ” he teases, “So desparate for me, hmmm? Do you know how hard it was for me not to take you that first day? Looking so innocent, like you don’t even realize there are monsters in the world.”

He grinds down again and Helen tightens her own grip on John, moaning as he continues to move against her.

“So sweet, so patient…” he continues, “Who would have thought you could be so  _ needy _ .”

He slows his pace and Helen whines, trying to grind up against him but it isn’t the same. She hears a small laugh in her ear and then John begins again.

“I”m gonna take such good care of you.” He tells her, “You won’t need this night job to get by anymore. You’re gonna spend your nights taking care of something else.” He drives into her and Helen cries out, feeling that heat swirling around her tummy. It feels so good, she can’t even bring herself to try and remember if she’s told the class that this is just her night job.

Nothing matters except the feeling that he is bringing her.

It builds, it builds, and builds until it is too much to take. Until it comes crashing down around her and she screams against his shoulder. 

John’s grip only tightens on her as she grunts at his own release and she feels the strong waves of cum spill inside her as he rocks out the last of his own orgasm.

Her body feels heavy and exhausted but John holds her close and whispers, “You’re mine now,  _ kiska _ .”


End file.
